A Dark Elf Amongst Nords
by Magdelena Sforza
Summary: Dark elf, Keleevra is thrown into a complex of emotions when she is confronted with one of Skyrims most famous characters.


As the sun rose over the tall trees of Tamriel, Keleevra watched it, ever careful of what could be around. She had gotten a few hours sleep at least, more than what was expected. It further emphasised the dark circles under her deep blue eyes. Sighing deeply for want of rest and better weather in the Nordic reaches of Skyrim, she pulled her coat tightly around her slim frame as her long black hair bellowed behind her. Today she was heading away from Dawnstar, for the first time in weeks. She was hearing rumours of a man who could save vampires' victims in Morthal and a man of the voice arriving in the land. What could it take to cure vampirism? How had someone with voice shown up after so many years? She had if course heard the many legends of the so named Dovahkiin, son of man and dragons. But never had she believed them, not until now of course. She shook her head, over thinking would be her downfall, it wasn't something that concerned her. Stooping to collect her small few belongings, she glanced back at the horizon. This land was one that was as beautiful as it was harsh. it tested her. Her skills from Morrowind helped of course, but Skyrim was different for her. She was judged and looked down upon here, and not for her own actions the people hated her kind, with no reason she could understand. Since she had made it for home, she had yet to find an actual home for herself. Living from the landscape was not what she had expected but it was enjoyable enough, except on cold Skyrim nights, when animal hide was not enough to keep the cold out and illness away. It was a land of opportunity and fortune for everyone but her it seemed. She shook her head, no matter. She had dealt with it in Morrowind, she could deal with it now. Today she would try to survive in another city.

Heading east, she followed the long mountains, keeping her weapons ready and her wits about her. No major threats had arisen yet, only her usual enemies; wolves, bears, sabre cats, nothing she couldn't handle. She had no idea how long she had been travelling when she realised her stomach had started to rumble. She took to the trees, pulling her bow from her back and an arrow from her quiver. She crouched, aiming carefully. Thankfully, edible wild animals were easy to come by here. After a short few moments, a rabbit hopped along the road. It was small, but it was all she needed. Carefully aiming for it's head, she released the arrow, sending it hurtling through the tiny creature's brain. She had never enjoyed killing the small ones, but she was higher in the food chain, it had to happen. Collecting her kill, she pulled the arrow from it, storing it once again in her quiver. She retreated to the trees once again, settling to make a small fire to enjoy her meal. She placed a few leaves like a table cloth, standing up a number of sticks in a pyramid shape. Her father had helped her learn small magic spells as a child, fire being the first. He said it would prove almost essential one day. He had not been wrong. She forced a small ball of fire into her hand, smiling fondly as she did, remembering her father as she lit the sticks at the tip of the pyramid. It caught small fire, enough for cooking. In her satchel, she had two arrows with crescent moon shapes at their tips, the feathers had been removed and while she often thought their creators would frown upon their use as a cooking aid, she found them incrdibly helpful. Pushing them into the ground at either side of the fire, she warmed her hands quickly before beginning the process of skinning the rabbit. It wasn't something she enjoyed but she needed to. As it sat on the stick, she propped it over the fire, watching the flames lick the air beneath it. As she rooted through her satchel, she pulled out some apples, nibbling on one as the rabbit cooked. Something caught her eye n the main path. She grabbed her bow and an arrow, prepared for any threats. Some soldiers, Stormcloaks, she knew by armour, passed on the nearby path. They looked occupied. As they passed, she settled down. Stormcloaks had not been kind to her in the past. She had caused trouble for them on a few occasions, but surely they weren't looking for her. Why would they? She let out a small breath, her years alone had made her paranoid. She turned the rabbit as she held her ears at attention. The woods made her uncomfortable now, it was too quiet. Where had those soldiers gone that they were now silent?

An arrow flew by her face, incredibly close to her nose. She jumped to her feet, readying her bow once again. She looked in the direction it came. Stormcloaks. At least 10 of them. She pulled back the string of her bow and released it sending a hard arrow into an oncoming soldiers head. "Murderer!" his companions shouted. Like a wildfire, they closed in around her. She knew when she was defeated. They had no reason to kill her. She hoped. They dragged her to her feet. "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, what say you in your defence?" the obvious leader spoke, a sword held ready to impale her if she tried anything. "What are my options?" she looked steadily around, she wasn't getting out of this one. "Come with us to The Windhelm Barracks, or die." he glared at her, it's a hatred she'd seen in the eyes of many people. A hatred fuelled by fear and mistrust of her people. She bowed her head. "Take me." "Smart woman.". Leading her back to the road, a cart waited in the middle of the path. She was hauled into the back of it, not gently. The cart began to move. She had never been arrested before. It wasn't a nice feeling. But why? What reason did they really have for this? She hadn't done anything lately that was too bad, aside from a little hunting and killing the odd bandit. But these things were to survive. What could she have done that deserved arrest? The cart stopped abruptly. As they exited, she saw the vast walls of Windhelm towering over her. It was terrifying. She had never seen a city so large, not since she entered Skyrim. The city gates opened to show a less than pretty view. The stone continued all over the city, with more poverty than she had seen before. The whole place had an uncomfortable feeling. "Hello! Care to take a look around Calixto's House of Curiosities? Just 2 septi-" "Not now Calixto, can't you see we've a prisoner?" this seemed to be a regular thing for the guards. "That's who I was offering it to.." he smiled in a creepy fashion, letting her wonder what "curiosities" lay inside his house.

She was dragged through the town, residents staring as she was pulled by them, muttering between themselves about Dark Elves and their dealings. It disgusted her to be judged by these people who didn't even know her. They acted as if they knew everything of the Dark Elves, but they knew nothing of them. Their history, traditions, the beauty of Morrowind. One particular crowd member, towards the end was particularly loud about his dealings with Dark Elves, about how they were weak and cowardly. That was the straw that broke the camels back. The guards had become lax, they didn't like this guy either. Their hands loosened. An opening? As they reached them, he was telling an exaggerated story of how he had once defeated a Dark Elf, Aelfric Grimseour, and hung his body in front of the mans house. She knew the man he talked about.

It was her own father. She broke through the hands of the soldiers. "That is NOT how my father died! You say you know of Dark Elf dealings, but what do you know?!" she barged towards him, pulling a small dagger from her belt. "From what I can see, all you know is mead and boar!" she slapped the mans large belly, laughing at him. He looked terrified. "If we're so cowardly and weak, why don't you kill me where I stand? Why don't you strike me down like you claim to have done to my father before me? If you are to stand there, and spread lies and profanity about my own father, follow his true story. I know that you are not the only one that knows of him. He was famed throughout both my land and yours, the story of his death is widely known, and you think you can stand here and foul upon his name? You make me sick to my stomach, I should strike you down where you stand!" she raised the dagger. The man screamed, and dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. "No, no, please, have mercy!" his wailing echoed from the walls. That was plenty.

She sheathed her dagger, and walked back to the guards. They knew she wouldn't do anything, they knew it was a moment of pride, and they had been kind enough to give her that much. They nodded, and she returned it, taking her place amongst them once more. "I knew your father Dark Elf. A kind man, intelligent, wise and very talented. Your show was deserved. Especially to an imbecile who claims to have struck down a man of such power.". Before her stood a man she had only heard of, but he could not be mistaken, even though she had never seen him. Before her was Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.


End file.
